


lathbora viran

by all_aboard



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Romance, Cheek Kisses, Dragon Age AU, Fluff, I just want them to be happy, M/M, Peter is mentioned, Slow Dancing, because I cant write, but only kind of, jons a tevinter magister, jons also the inquisitor, leliana and morrigan are also mentioned, martin just works for the red jenny, martin's half blood, not quite part of the inquisition yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24197053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_aboard/pseuds/all_aboard
Summary: “Thank you for the dance, Inquisitor. You learn fast!”Jon thought it was cute how casual he was trying to make this seem. Jon thought a lot of things about Martin were cute tonight. Maybe he drank too much punch after the speech. He didn’t particularly care.-This is a mess and i'm really rusty at writing but I wanted to finally do something with an au i've been thinking about for forever, spoilers for the quest Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts from inquisition but like very vaguely.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonmartin - Relationship, Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	lathbora viran

So, that was it.

Jon was left to his own devices once Morrigan had told him she was joining the Inquisition. The night outside of the Winter Palace was strangely calm and quiet, not at all betraying the mess that had occurred inside of the massive building not even an hour ago. He had stopped the attempt on Empress Celene's life, though he could hardly take the credit. Really, it was that boy that had helped him to keep it all together. Gathered his blackmail, went into the servant's quarters and risked his own life in order to help a cause that wasn't even his own. He didn't even ask for anything in return.

Except he did later on. He told him, when he took the Duchess down into the ballroom, taking his dance so that Jon wouldn't have to act like he knew what he was doing. He had told him that Jon had owed him for that. But he didn’t exactly say what it was he owed to the man, and that scared him, if only a little.

Martin. A strange not-elf but not-human either. Martin, who could easily lift the mood in a room just by entering it and laughing. He was dangerous. It was easy to tell, sure, because they don't make not dangerous Bards. That was according to Leliana, at least, who used to be one. He trusted her, though. He had been around her long enough that he had to trust her, really.

With Martin, however, it was like you were stuffing your hand into a dark hole inside of a cave, and hoping that it didn’t get bitten off. The man was almost never around, unless it was of his own interest or benefitted his “Friends”. He hadn’t explained that, either. But here he was, in Orlais with him and the rest of the Inquisition’s main advisors, helping.

Jon was dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of a gentle knock against the doors that led outside to his balcony, and he turned his head just slightly, so he could see who it was. It was Martin. And he had to stop himself from swearing. It's like he knew when someone was talking about him, he hadn't even heard his footsteps. Martin cast an inquisitive look in his direction, and Jon just shook his head, waving for him to join him, and so he does.

“You look stressed.” Comments the not-elf, a soft and easy smile on his face, and Jon gave a little half hearted grunt in response, looking at him with a tired expression. “Who wouldn’t be, after a night so eventful?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it eventful. Not for me, at least.” He said, leaning his hip against the railing and looking down at Jon. He was slumped against the very same railing, currently, which made him quite a bit shorter than the not-elf. He wasn’t sure he liked the feeling he got in his stomach from the way Martin loomed over him, if only just so. He wet his lips before he responded again. “Is that so? Running around the Winter Palace to gather information while an assassin threatens the Empress’s very life isn’t eventful enough for you?” he asked, amusement sprinkling his tone.

Martin’s lips curled into a somewhat wider smile, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and dimples revealing in his cheeks as he laughed, and Jon felt just a little starstruck. He hadn’t ever noticed it before, how could he, when he’s never around? That Martin was absolutely gorgeous. He turned his face away from Martin so he didn’t have to stare, listening for his response. It took a moment, as if he were gathering his words. “No, not really.. Stopping assassins and fetching blackmail are, after all, what I do for a living, Inquisitor.” he said smoothly.

It was quiet after that. A comfortable quiet, Jon would like to think. The air was cool outside and the breeze was there enough to be pleasant and not uncomfortable. The sky also had not a cloud to be seen, the stars dazzling and bright against the inky, but scarred expanse of the horizon.

“You didn’t tell me about that part.” he said eventually, breaking the silence and catching Martin’s attention once more. The not-elf gave a little hum of acknowledgement. “You never asked?” he replied, and when Jon didn’t respond he continued. “It didn’t seem important, anyways. You don’t have nearly as many murder parties as the nobles in Orlais do. Maybe it’s a good thing. Murder-y stuff gets boring after a while, you know.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at Martin, looking over again, puzzled. “If you’re bored, why did you even attend?” he asked, and Martin was silent. Jon didn’t push the subject. He feels like he knows the answer to that, already anyways. So he decides to change the subject. “Why are you here anyways, Martin? What brings you to my quiet side of the party?”

Martin blinked at him as if he’d asked a stupid question. Did he ask a stupid question? “You looked like you needed some company.” he responded as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Martin,” he started. “I came here to be alone.” When he said that, he could’ve sworn he saw the man’s ears droop a little. A trick of the mind, maybe. He brushed it off.

“Oh.” was what he said, turning his head away from Jon and looking a little lost, hands messing with the loose fabric of his gloves. “If you want me to go I can. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” he said, now seemingly full of nervousness. Jon felt a small twinge of guilt and propped himself up on his elbows so he could stand a bit more at Martin’s level, still using the barrier to support himself.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m quite enjoying your company.” he found himself examining the other man’s face once again. Because they were out on the porch, there wasn’t very much in terms of lighting, so the moon would have to suffice. But Jon could make out darker specks of color splashed across Martin’s face, as well as a number of darker spots in a few places.

Jon feels his cheeks warm a little when Martin met his gaze again, finally. “You sure? ‘Cause I can just, go. And leave you to it. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to deal with, too. World saving business, right? Tough stuff. I could always wait ‘til Skyhold, too.” he said, spilling a little bit and folding his hands in front of him to keep them from fidgeting. That was certainly new. Martin always seemed very confident, and if he’s allowed to say so, a little bit full of himself any other time he’d spoken to him. Maybe that was because of Elias, or because Peter was around. Or maybe it was an act. Either way, he hadn’t known Martin was the nervous and rambly type. (And it was kind of cute.)

Jon looked at him inquisitively. “Wait for Skyhold to do what? I thought you said you just wanted to keep me company.” he said, not being able to help the smirk that tugged on his lips as he teased the other. Martin seemed to get flustered, mumbling something Jon didn’t quite catch to himself before giving him a small smile.

“You remember when I took Florianne down to the ballroom for you earlier this evening?” he asked. Of course he did, and he responded as such. Martin nodded. “Well, i’ve come to collect what you owe.” he seemed to be easing up again, Jon noticing the way he fought his lip to keep it from twitching up into a smile. “And what is it, exactly, that I owe to you?” he asked calmly.

Martin took a few steps back and was full on grinning now, a sparkle in his dark eyes. Jon raised an eyebrow as he watched one of the man’s hands rise from his side, palm facing upwards. “A dance.” he said simply, and Jon looked at him incredulously.

“Seriously?” Jon asked, bewildered.

“As serious as the Blight.” he nodded, determined.

“A dance.” he echoed, staring at his hand for a few long moments. “I don’t do dancing. You knew that before I even had to tell you. Why are you asking now?” Martin hummed a little, shifting his weight on his feet. “That’s nonsense. Everyone can dance. I can show you the basics.” He waved the hand insistently towards Jon, and for a moment he considered rejecting the proposal, but seeing the boyish excitement that Martin was currently displaying had his heart softening, just a little. Martin was a strange thing, and Jon thinks he might like being able to get a better look into that mind of his. Even if it was only just a sparing glance.

“Fine. But you better not complain if I step on your toes.” he said, meaning for it to sound sharp but it instead seeming like it bounced off Martin entirely. The not-elf was looking at him very expectantly, even wiggling the hand offered towards him again, and Jon was hesitantly raising his own to place onto it, gaze jumping from the hand to Martin, and then back again.

Martin pulled Jon towards him slightly, forcing the man to fix his posture and stand upright, back straightening. It was almost comical, the difference in height between them, but if Martin was bothered he didn’t let it show. He was really good at hiding his expressions, Jon noticed. Another side effect of playing The Game so often, no doubt. Their chests barely pressed together as Martin moved their hands into the proper places, his free hand coming to rest on the small of Jon’s back. After that, they took it slow. Gently swaying to their own, silent melody as Martin guided him through the dance. Jon, really, was too focused on making sure he didn’t accidentally trip over his own feet or step on Martin toes, that he didn’t notice that Martin had brought their bodies just a little bit closer and was gazing intently up at him, his dark eyes reflecting the stars. Jon wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence. As much as it was nice, it just wasn’t really the same magical feeling without music. (I’m sure he would know.)

Thankfully, Martin did just that for him. “As much as this party has been boring, I think there will not ever be anything like it again.” he said, as casual as ever. It was hard to pick out at first, but there was a slight waver in his voice, from his nervousness.

“Oh?” Jon replied, and he nodded.

“You just saved the Empress and reunited an entirely divided country within a few hours. That’s a feat not even the Hero of Fereldan was able to accomplish. I don’t think he was able to, at least. The details are different every time I hear someone tell the story again.” he reminded, and Jon felt himself smiling, proud of himself for that.

“Maybe one day you’ll meet him yourself and get to ask.” he suggested, and the not-elf seemed to entertain the idea for a few long moments. “Wouldn’t that be something.” Martin replied with an almost whisper, childlike wonder in his voice. And Jon huffed out a laugh that grabbed Martin’s attention.

The next few moments blurred together a little bit. Jon felt something hooking on one of his ankles, and pulling until he lost his balance. As he let out a cry of alarm, he entirely expected to fall flat on his back as he stumbled backwards, and braced for it. But his back never hit the ground. Instead, he found himself being held up entirely by Martin, who was now leaning over him. And all at once he realized what was happening.

The not-elf’s strength surprised him, his hands clutching onto the silky material of Martin’s harlequin armor. He didn’t at all look like he could lift Jon, let alone keep him up for more than a few short moments. Always full of surprises, this man. Looking up at him, he saw that Martin’s dark skin was now very obviously colored by a rosy blush, and Jon was certain it wasn’t the spiked punch that was being served all night.

For a long few seconds, they stood just like that, Martin leaning over Jon and Jon bent backwards, almost falling but kept up by Martin’s arms. Their faces weren’t very close, but the whole moment seemed intimate. And like they shouldn’t be doing it. Jon remembered the Martin from the wretched future he had seen in Redcliffe, and what he had said to him when the not-elf realized he wasn’t dead, and suddenly everything made a bit more sense to him.

He didn’t want to let it go to his head, though. That Martin had well over a year to grieve and let his apparent unrequited love for Jon fester. This one, he wouldn’t ever know that future or what it held for him. He wondered if he even still felt the same as the other Martin.

Jon slid the hand that rested on Martin’s shoulder up to his cheek, gently cupping it before Martin could draw away, the man’s eyebrows rising slightly out of surprise. What was he doing? He didn’t really know. It felt right, in the moment. So he continued, pulling Martin’s face closer to his own and brushing his lips against his smooth cheek. It wasn’t anything all that special, really. No sparks flew or feelings were suddenly realized. It was nothing like what happened in horribly cheesy love poems or stories for small children. And Jon was grateful for that, really.

Martin pulled Jon back up when he drew away, letting go and taking a step back quickly when he had made sure he had his balance. He seemed a little puffed up, almost like a bird whose feathers had been ruffled. “Well, uh. That was nice.” he said, managing not to stutter. “Thank you for the dance, Inquisitor. You learn fast!”

Jon thought it was cute how casual he was trying to make this seem. Jon thought a lot of things about Martin were cute tonight. Maybe he drank too much punch. He didn’t particularly care.

“Jon.” he had said, Martin furrowing his brows.

“What?”

“You can just call me Jon. I think we’re well past the titles, don’t you, Ser Martin? Or am I wrong?” he said, lips curling into a small smirk as Martin groaned at the mention of his own title.

“Sure, sure, whatever.” he waved his hands dismissively. “Jon. Joooooon.” he tested it, and gave a little smile. “Thank you, Jon. For the dance. I should probably go and, um, check up on Peter. Make sure he hasn’t killed anyone. You know how he is” Martin said, earning a small laugh and nod of understanding from Jon. 

“Alright. Just don’t get yourself arrested, alright? I like having you around..” he said in a light tone, Martin shooting a shy smile his way before turning on his heel and striding back into the building, just as quietly as he arrived. Jon watched his back until he disappeared in the sea of party goers again. Once he was gone, he turned around and slumped against the railing once again, covering his burning face with his hands and letting out a little groan of distress, staring up at the stars as if they held any answers for him. What was he doing?

**Author's Note:**

> the only thing I had on my mind the entire time i was writing this was jonmartin, dragon age au, and how bad my writing is
> 
> some of it needs context that i've only ever spoken about to my partner so i'm sorry if it got a little confusing near the end JGSJGJLJL
> 
> "Lathbora viran: Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know."


End file.
